How Long?
by conway123
Summary: She knew that he had still loved Rory. She knew that she wasn't the only one occupying his heart. She had just thought that maybe, in time, he would love her as much as she loved him. How did Lindsay find the letter? What were her thoughts? What would the future hold for these two? A one shot showcasing the events of season five's episode: A Messanger, Nothing More


**This is loosely inspired by the song How Long? by Charlie Puth. It was while listening to this song when I thought up the idea for this fic. As for the episode this takes place during, I listened to their fight and tried to write down what they said during the episode. So the sentences in italics are dialogue from the show. I do not own Gilmore Girls no matter how much I wish I did, or the song by Charlie Puth. Without further ado...**

Lindsay was never one to snoop. She didn't gossip like other girls in her high school had. She liked to stay in her own lane, not interfere unless she was wanted. She wasn't one for snooping until she wandered into her bedroom one day.

She had finished her and Dean's laundry, and was setting the piles onto the bed when she saw Dean's jacket. She sighed to herself, realizing she'd forgotten to wash it. She walked over to pick it up when something fell from the pocket. She had the fullest intent of placing it neatly in his pocket, when the writing caught her eye. It was addressed to Dean... from Rory. She was startled. She didn't think they were in contact. She tried her hardest not to open it. It wasn't really a wonder when she ripped open the envelope and read the contents.

She was stunned. Anger started to boil her blood when she pieced everything together. No wonder, no freaking wonder. It was no surprise.

Rage blinded her vision. She wasn't thinking straight. What started out as screaming, turned into breaking, and smashing, and ripping and tearing. Their room looked like chaos and she wasn't nearly through. When Dean had come home, the yelling match started. Each scream daring to go louder and louder.

"What is this?" she had held the letter in her clutch, knowing fully what it was.

Dean's shoulders had visibly dropped and he had sped into an excuse right away, "Lindsay, I can explain!"

" _Get out now, get out!_ " Lindsay demanded, her voice increasing and increasing. She pointed towards the door and waited expectingly. She should have known Dean would stand his ground.

" _I'm sorry, ok? I don't know what else to say! Lindsay, come on_!" he tried to reason with her, calm her down. He was not eager to broadcast their marital problems to the whole town. They were already causing a ruckus and people were starting to crowd outside.

"You're making a scene," he whisper yelled, wanting her to stop and think.

" _I hate you, Dean, I hate everything!_ " she spat, her words laced with venom as she chucked a pile of his freshly folded laundry out the window and watched as it tumbled to the ground.

Dean's voice was pleading, the guilt obvious by the look upon his tanned face, " _let's just talk."_

She wanted so desperately to stop the madness she had managed to find herself in. Her mind was ready to return to ignoring like she's always found herself doing the past few months, yet her mouth kept on screeching like a banshee.

" _I don't want to talk, I don't want you here!_ " she grabbed the nearest thing of Dean's, which happened to be his favorite hockey stick, and threw with all her might. It hit the tiles below the window before smashing against the pavement below.

" _I'm sorry, ok?_ " she could tell Dean was tiring from the look of exhaustion displayed across his face.

She was in disbelief. Was their relationship not worth it to him enough to actually fight to keep. It seemed as though he'd already sent his white flag of surrender up the pole. She manages to scoff, " _you're sorry?_ "

" _Yes, it will never happen again,_ " Dean told her eagerly, wishing for her to listen to his reasoning.

If she wasn't using her voice full force, she knew she would melt down in front of the townspeople she knew were outside her window.

Stars Hallow never could respect privacy, could they? She wasn't prepared to show her weakness, to show how much she hurt inside.

" _Get out, NOW_ ," Lindsay choked, trying to conceal the lumps forming in her throat. Another pile of clothes were sent flying for the ground.

Dean reached for Lindsay's arm in a useless attempt to save his clothes from the fate Lindsay had planned. " _Ok, you got my... can you not?_ " he winced as his shirts danced through the air before landing crumpled.

" _Don't you dare!_ " she shouted overtop, while pulling her arms away from his potential grasp.

" _I'm sorry, there's not much else I can do except I'm sorry!_ " Dean exasperated, his arms out in front of him as if to ask why she was still yapping on about it. This action only ignited her flame.

The last of the laundry flew out the window, and her voice was now sore from yelling relentlessly.

" _There was a lot you could've done and you know what? You didn't do it!"_ she pointed a finger at him condescendingly only to see his eyebrows raise and his mouth open, no bet to use another cliche defense.

Dean ran his hands through his sweaty locks of brown, " _I'm sorry. Can we do something? Can we get over this?_ "

He knew that these would be the consequences of his actions yet he hadn't been thinking, he had been so blinded by the fact that Rory actually reciprocated his feelings. That she wanted him. It hadn't mattered that he had a wife that he thought he'd love. It hadn't mattered that she'd have been devastated when she'd find out because god forbid secrets staying secret. He had made a mistake and now Dean desperately wanted to make things right. When he looked into the eyes of his soon-to-be ex wife, he saw nothing but confusion, pain and a burning hatred. He knew suddenly he could not be forgiven.

" _It's too late, Dean, look out the window!_ " The thought that he thought he'd be pardoned infuriated her.

She knew that he had still loved Rory. She knew that she wasn't the only one occupying his heart. She had just thought that maybe, in time, he would love her as much as she loved him.

She had loved him so much she was willing to forgive when he'd moaned Rory's name one night, when he was distant and cold. She should've known the heart doesn't forget that easily. She was disappointed in him. And most of all, disappointed in herself. For not seeing the signs sooner. For not realizing the impending doom she'd put herself into.

" _Look, let's just talk it out,_ " his voice was becoming painfully whiny as he begged for her to just calm down so he could explain.

He plopped down onto the bed and rested his head in his hands, hands in his knees. He rubbed his eyes and stayed there, knowing he would never forgive himself for the pain he'd caused. He had never meant to hurt Lindsay, no matter how much it seemed.

" _I hate you, Dean,_ " Lindsay shrieked. She started to shake, a wail escaping her throat before she hugged her arms to her chest and collapsed to the floor in a mess.

Her sobs could be heard all throughout the town square, and it was at this time the townsfolk decided that enough was enough. They quickly made their exits and left the young couple to as much privacy as they could. The town square was empty in less than a minute.

Dean looked up suddenly and he too wanted to crumple when he saw how fragile Lindsay appeared. He so desperately wanted to comfort her, and hold her in his arms until she calmed but he knew he'd given up that right the moment he'd fallen into bed with Rory. He knew this was his punishment. So he just watched as she wept out her frustrations on the blue rug they'd picked out together. It seemed like forever before her cries were minimal, and she spoke in nothing more than a whisper.

"Dean, I think it's best that we be honest with each other," she waited for his quick nods to continue. Her voice was raspy and hoarse but easy enough to decider. "Was it real or just for show?"

Dean was taken aback. He would have never expected the question from her mouth. Out of a thousand possibilities, he'd never imagined.

"Lindsay, what do you mean?"

Lindsay took a deep breath and closed her eyes tight, the last few tears trickled down her soaked cheeks. She tried her best to compose herself, "you always loved Rory, no reason denying it. But did you marry me just to spite her, just to make her jealous? Were you just using me to forget her or did you truly love me?"

Dean felt like he'd been smacked into a brick wall. "I'm sorry, Lindsay, I really am..." he started. He reached out to touch her shoulder and felt pained when she flinched away.

"Please save your apologies, because all I need to know how is long this has been going on."

"It only happened once," Dean choked out, trying hard not to break down like the baby he felt he was. He looked into Lindsay's eyes and saw she was tired of his game, exhausted really.

"Please, Dean. You owe me answers."

He could no longer prolong the thoughts bottled up and knew that he _did_ owe Lindsay, a lot more than just answers.

"I admit, I did love Rory, _do_ love Rory..." he confessed shamefully. He saw Lindsay's mouth quiver before he quickly rushed the rest out. "I did love her while being with you but that didn't mean I didn't love you. If I hadn't loved you, I wouldn't have married you. I did love you, Lindsay." He wished that he could magically take away her suffering but clearly, magic had no existence in a world like theirs.

"Key word: did," she whispered. She was now sitting on the rug with her knees pressed against her chest and her arms wrapped around them in a tight hug. Her eyes trailed the floorboard, not looking up in fear of loosing her temper again.

"I swear that you're the only one I wanted to love," Dean tried to make things better. Obviously, he wasn't so good with words.

"I know that's meant to be reassuring, though it's not. It seems that no matter what, you just couldn't help loving Rory, even when you had me," her words were hissed however her voice was too weak to strike fear. She looked like a small child, sad and small, fearing the future.

"What now?" she asked after an eery silence struck, both lost for words.

"I don't know," he admitted, sighing so very loudly.

"Maybe I should go. I can pack my things quickly and live with my mother. She was getting lonely anyways. We can sort out who gets what furniture and everything another time," she suggested.

All she wanted was to get out of his guilty gaze and have a long nap. Once sleep succumbed, her mind would drift off into a peaceful dream and she would be alright.

Dean nodded, his jaw clenched in anger at himself. "You can get any furniture you want, I doesn't matter to me."

Lindsay only responded with more nods.

"I should go," Lindsay exclaimed.

Rising from her spot, she wobbled over to the closet with her suitcase tucked neatly inside. She shoved in some clothes and her necessities, knowing she'd return at a later time when Dean wasn't present. Her suitcase was full in less than ten minutes and she was at the door frame in seconds, before she warily turned around. She saw Dean, defeated on the bed, watching her while tears threatened to spill.

"I didn't think it would end like this," he said, one tear had spilt down his cheek then.

She forced a small, sad smile and agreed, "I know."

They took one last look at each other before Lindsay decided to leave for real this time. She was going to see her mother. Before she left, she bid him one last farewell.

"Goodbye, Dean."

"Goodbye, Lindsay."

She reached her mother's house later that night and collapsed into her arms as soon as she saw her. She cried as her mother soothingly rubbed her back. When she pulled away, she could tell her mother was worried for her.

"I don't want to talk now, Mom, but don't worry about me, ok? I'll tell you in the morning," she assured before lumbering up to her old bedroom.

She gazed at her childish pink walls, and boy band posters, realizing how she'd matured; if only a little. She climbed under her soft covers and took in the smell. They smelt comforting, like the years when she was naive and happy.

She was soon lulled to sleep by that smell, and had hoped for a nonsense dream to leave her disoriented and cheery for at least a moment when she awoke. That was however, not the case. She had fell into a dreamless sleep, leaving her to remember the pain when she would wake.

 **I hope this wasn't too much of a flop. Tell me what you think in the comments below, I am all for a little constructive criticism. Thank you!**


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